The Dragon Chain
by charmdfate
Summary: A woman who doesn't know where she belongs a city about to be destroyed and a secret, hidden deep beneath the streets, that could save them both.
1. Chapter 1

The Dragon Chain

These are original characters in an original story that belongs solely to me. I dreamed the whole thing, and believe me, if I can get half of it down on paper I think you're gonna like it. Any resemblance to anyone, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This story will eventually deal with same sex couples, so if this is illegal where you live or it just plain is not your bag, please move on. You may find some bad language, so if it offends you, I apologize.

**Chapter 1**

The ground shook as a lone figure made her way up the cracked steps of an old cathedral. Stepping around masonry and pieces of gargoyles that had toppled from the roof, she approached the gilded wooden doors. She stood: framed for a moment against the purple-black backdrop of the mid-day sky. Shaking her head ever so slightly, she paused to look at the pictures depicted on the great doors: on the left a knight in full plate armor is slaying a tiger with a lance, and on the right a maiden outlined in gold is taming a prancing unicorn with silver ribbons woven into its mane. Beautiful work; too bad it, and this whole city, for that matter, will be dust in a few hours.

She decided to ring the bell before trying to enter; hell, the way things have been going lately, the church might well be occupied by someone even more extreme in their convictions than the Catholics: Reaching out, she grasped the chain and gave it a hard yank. Well, at least now she had a weapon. She glanced at the corroded end, shrugged, and wrapped part of the three-foot long heavy-duty chain around her right hand. Keeping as much of her body hidden as possible, she proceeded to push against the knight's door. Surprisingly, it opened as if the hinges have been recently oiled. Gripping the chain tightly and looking around for any danger, she edged slowly around the door and entered the church.

Now, at five foot eleven, she is not usually the smallest person in a room, but the man standing in front of her dwarfed her height by at least four inches. He held the handle of the door in his left hand, and his professional boxer's build showed why it opened so easily. In his right hand is an aluminum baseball bat. Great. She knew how to fight; growing up in New York City it's a survival skill that learned quickly. But the brute muscle developed during her teen years had since been replaced by the more flexible and lithe muscleage of a dancer, gymnast, and, occasionally, cat burglar. Agility, not strength, would be her saving grace this time. She flexed her knees slightly to loosen up, and decided to let the boxer make the first move. He took a step back and gestured with his bat at the darkness beyond the door. She walked slowly forward, silently praying that this wasn't a trap. Many gangs had turned to cannibalism because of the food shortage and an in—attentive person could easily become someone else's lunch.

The door swung closed, and for a moment she could see nothing. She strained to hear the sound of an attack: strike while the prey is blind. But the only sound was the chain as it wove a shield around her body. As her eyes slowly began to adjust to the dim interior of the church, she looked for another way out, making sure that the boxer was always in the corner of one eye. A large circular stained glass window was at the other end of the cathedral. The sickly light that entered through it cast dark bars across the crucified form of Jesus hung just below. She crossed herself awkwardly; partly from the fact that she was still holding the chain, and mostly because she was uncomfortable with the motions of religions not her own. But hey, when in Rome... There is a door beside the alter, but she knew that it lead to the priest's private rooms, and while there was sure to be an exit it would take too long to find it among the labyrinthine hallways that ran under the church.

"Youare safe here," the mellow bass voice interrupted her search.

She whirled to the left, cursing herself for letting a possible enemy get behind her. The boxer was still standing beside the door with the bat's end just touching the floor. He didn't appear hostile, but never take appearances for granted.

"You are safe here," the boxer repeated.

"Who are you," she asked, keeping her voice low to avoid an echo in the great hall?

"I am the Guardian of the Gate. Known to those who enter here as Gareth." He spoke matter of factly, as if she should have known already.

"What do you want?" Her questions are rather lame, but what can one say to a man whom apparently thought that he was the doorkeeper of a castle or some other medieval residence?

"I think the real question here is what do you want?" Gareth's voice had a touch of humor in it, but his face showed no sign.

**"**Idecided to hold a little cookout on the alter," she replied in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

Apparently, it was the wrong time to try to make a joke. Gareth moved menacingly forward, raising the bat. She backed up quickly and decided the best bet would be to drop the chain and show that she was harmless; besides, chain fighting was never her forte; she would most likely manage to do more damage to herself than to the boxer.

She relaxed her hand and twisted her wrist in a deft move that should have disengaged the chain, except that she had forgotten about the fringed gloves that she had put on that morning. See where dressing up for church will get you? The chain quickly became entangled. Confirming her place in hell with a string of swear words, she tugged futilely at the stubborn piece of metal, finally ripping it from the traitorous gloves and flinging it to her right, where she heard a thump as the chain hit the wooden pews. She looked up quickly, cursing herself for letting Gareth out of her sight again. But the giant man had not moved from his place by the door. As she watched, his dark face cracked into a grin and he doubled over in laughter.

"What do you expect from a cable installer," she grumbled, upset because the harsh truth was that being off the streets for two and a half years had softened her up more than she thought.

"Are we going to fight now or what?"

Gareth took several strained breaths, wiped away tears, and looked with mirth filled eyes at the flustered young woman who stood before him.  
"Forgive me, I have not seen anything that humorous in quite a while," he said in his cultured voice as he set the bat on his shoulder. "I will not fight you. You are the Chosen.

Of all the churches in this city, why does this man have to be here? He could have lived in the synagogue around the corner or in the really big cathedral up the street, but he just had to pick the only church that she felt nostalgic about.

"Come everyone, there is no need to hide. She is the one Father has been telling us about." As he spoke, Gareth lifted the largest bar of wood she had ever seen and placed it in brackets across the door.

Her last thought before the sudden blossoming of light blinds her was that there had better be another way out of here!

She had just entered the surreal version of The Wizard of Oz. Staring openly at the strange assortment of people who appeared from under the pews and behind the alter, she hardly noticed that yet again she had turned her back on the boxer, and that he had, during that moment of inattention, moved forward to place his heavy, dark, ungloved hand upon her shoulder. She tried to move away from the possible contamination, but his grip was sure.

He leaned close and said remonsterably, "You don't really believe that the gloves protect you from infestation, do you?"

She had no time to answer for Gareth promptly leaned away and spoke loudly so that the "congregation" could hear.

"Come, meet your people; they have been waiting for you for a long time." Gareth had slowly been putting pressure on her shoulder, and now it was beginning to really hurt. She decided that the best thing to do would be to play along. The only thing she had left to lose was her life, and that would be forfeit soon anyway. She smiled and walked slowly forward.

"Should I make a speech or something," she whispered to her heavily muscled shadow.

"No. Just let them see you." Gareth propelled her toward the alter where the people had formed a rough line. There were seven of them, all looking at her with hopeful eyes.

"Youwant to loosen that a little, pal," she muttered, trying to shrug her shoulder under his clawed hand. He said nothing, but when they reached the first man Gareth's hand relaxed slightly.

"Oh Chosen One, I have been praying night and day to the good Lord. I say to him, Lord, grant this boon and send to us the one who, with your blessing, will lead us from this modern day Sodom. Have we, housed in your temple for three months, not been faithful? Where have we failed you that you leave us to wait so long for salvation? But then, have we not already been saved? We who turned to you in this timeof trouble? Have I not dedicated my life to the worship…

At this point her attention lagged. This guy sounded like one of those preachers on T.V., and he was dressed like one, too, in a bright blue suit that, although obviously new, looked as though it (and it's occupant) had been run through the wax cycle at the local car wash.

"Uh, thanks," she said, cutting off the preacher mid-ramble. She sped up, pulling Gareth with her to the next person in line who took her hand and stared into her eyes.

This woman was dressed only in a pair of white thong underwear and black high heels. Now, normally this look would not bother Gareth's companion, but this under-dressed woman was not really built for such a bold fashion statement. In fact, someone in her weight class should have been prohibited from purchasing white thong underwear in the first place.

"Samantha, the Chosen One must meet the rest of her people." He spoke very slowly and gently.

Samantha looked at him and then turned back to face the "Chosen One". She smiled sweetly, released the hand she was holding, and stepped away.

"Never mind those fruits. Peter has just found the Lord and Samantha can't seem to find her marbles."

The next person in line was a short, balding man in his early fifties, dressed in a brown leisure suit and grasping a half smoked, un-lit cigar in his mouth. He clasped her hand firmly.

"Of course, we're all a little loony for sitting around here waiting for a ''Chosen One'' to come and save our asses."

"Sidney, you can't say ass in church." A woman, presumably his wife, hit Sidney on the arm with her handbag. She was wearing a flowered housecoat and curlers.

"Joanie, I'll say whatever the hell I want to say." Sidney dropped the Chosen's hand and turned toward his wife. "I'm trying to talk to our savior and you just can't keep your trap shut for one minute."

Joan took the edge of her housecoat in one stubby hand and curtsied clumsily.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Chosen One," she said in her thick accent. "Please excuse us." She grabbed Sidney by the arm and tugged him down the center isle toward the back of the church. They could be heard arguing softly, Sidney swearing twice in every sentence.

The last three people (two women and a man) were clustered next to the alter.

"You'll have to forgive them. Sid was convinced that you were only a myth and Joan's been worrying herself sick that he would decide to leave before you got here."

The speaker was the woman standing in the middle. She was about average height, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She was wearing a pair of tight-fitting black jeans and a light purple polo shirt.

"I understand." Shield's companion replied, wishing feverently she had taken her mother up on her offer to pay for a class in "the art of conversation".

"My name is Kate. This is my brother, Sean, and my girlfriend, Emily."

Sean (who looked enough like his sister to be her twin), took the stranger's hand, and, in an attempt to appear dashing, kissed the back of it.

"It is my extreme pleasure to meet you."

He had the oily, likeable voice of a good used car salesman. He winked and waggled his eyebrows, which most assuredly must have charmed many of his former girlfriends. The stranger nodded politely, extracted her hand from his gentle grip, and turned her gaze on Emily. Emily smiled shyly and remained standing behind Kate, her hands gripping the ends of her girlfriend's shirt. She had light brown hair, pulled back, and possibly brown eyes, but she wouldn't look directly at anyone. Her slender form was encased in a loose black skirt and a large white t-shirt.

The so- called Chosen one is about to speak when Gareth griped her shoulder tightly once more and propelled her past the alter and toward the door that lead to the priest's personal rooms.

"Wait a second," she said as she stopped and twisted around in his grip. "I'll see you all later." She directed her words toward the entire group. The look they gave was not very encouraging and she was about to ask them what was wrong when Gareth pushed her through the vestibule door.

"What the hell was that all about," She asked him as she shook his hand off her shoulder.

"Patience, Chosen One, all will be revealed soon." His tone was calm, knowing, and utterly infuriating.

She looked up into his dark, handsome face, and the peace she saw there drained the anger away. For some strange reason she trusted this man, and this trust made her wary.

"Come, Father is waiting for us in the back study."

All she could do was follow and hope that her death was still the one she expected.

To Be Continued…..


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

She followed Gareth's large form down a narrow stone hallway. She expected the private areas of the church to be drab: functional brown carpet, bare walls painted white, minimal lighting. But this hallway was exquisite. Her thief eyes couldn't help but notice the rich carpets (at least $500 a piece, black-market) that muffle their footsteps. Nor could she pass the thick, hand sewn, yes, definitely hand sewn, tapestries that cover large portions of the rough stonework without trying to estimate their value. They seemed to all have a dragon theme, but Gareth's pace never slowed enough for her to study the pictures. Even the light fixtures were ornate: the scaled neck of a dragon upturned so that the creature held the light bulb in it's mouth, a delicate powdered white fan of glass between the light and the hallway. One glance and a quick finger scratch in an unnoticeable place showed that they were at least gold-plated.

"Hey Gareth."

He stopped and turned, a look of irritation on his face.

"We must hurry, you waited too long and now there is hardly any time to prepare you," he spoke more to himself than to his companion.

"No problem, I'll sprint the rest of the way if you'll just answer me one question."

"What do you wish to know?"

"Youhave enough wealth here to buy detox for yourself, the father, and at least three of the people in the cathedral. Why didn't you?"

Gareth looked at the dusty splendor around him and sighed.

"Father couldn't leave and fulfill his duties at the same time. He sent as many people through detoxification as he could. He would have sacrificed even these, his most precious objects, to send at least one more person through the Tunnel, but the last group that tried was attacked. Instead of stealing the Tunnel price to use for themselves, the attackers tore the rugs and tapestries to pieces, started a fire, and ate the three of the four members that didn't make it back to the safety of the church. Father deemed it too dangerous to try again

"Samantha," it was not a question.

He nodded sadly, and she could think of nothing else to say. The only run-in she had had with the Anys (so called because the would do.. .and eat.. .anything) was brief and consisted of her stumbling upon a pack, scrambling hastily up the nearest building to the roof, and running all the way home. What she remembered most was looking into the pack leader's eyes and seeing nothing. The woman had ceased to be human.

Gareth turned and continued to walk briskly down the hall, which had begun to curve left and angle downward. A plain, rough-hewn wooden door marked the end of the trip. Gareth knocked softly, and the creak of wood and leather and then sliding footsteps could be heard. A latch was pulled back and the door opened slowly inward.

"Come in my children," a frail voice said.

They entered a small room. Directly in front of the pair a large fire blazed in a stone-worked hearth, a wooden chair with leather tooling pulled so close to it that the leather almost appeared to be melting from the heat. The stranger turned to look at the old man clinging to the door.

This was not the Father Meary of her memory. This man was incredibly short, barely five feet tall. His hair, which, in her mind remained a deep black with bright gray tingeing the sides, was white. His barrel chest and strong arms were gone, replaced by skin hanging slightly from thin bones. His hands, which once so fascinated her child-self with their strength and eloquence, have been transformed into withered, twisted roots that flail towards her, attempting to take her hand. He grabbed her hand firmly, and she looked into his eyes. His eyes, blue, clear, commanding. .loving. This was the man she remembered. She shook the disturbing images from her mind and peered around the room.

This was more like what she expected. A wooden desk, the pattern matching the chair by the fire, sat to the left of the door. A yellow legal pad (it's top page blank) and a ballpoint pen rested on the desk's polished surface. The only other object in the room was a shield hanging on the wall to the right. A silver dragon was curled in the center of the shield's dark gold field. The entire piece was scorched and slightly bent, as if it had been plucked from a fire just before it melted. Well, at least nothing here was a surprise. She turned to face the Father and Gareth.

"Now will someone please explain what's going on," she said as she ran her hand over the desk's surface, checking for flaws.

"Ah, still the same after all these years aren't you, my child. Basil, look at the way she inspects the wealth of a room. Even when she was a little girl she did that." Father Meary chuckled and poked at Gareth's massive arm.

"Basil," she asked with a barely suppressed a grin? "That sure explains the accent."

Gareth looked embarrassed, and as he opened his mouth to retort Father Meary placed a shaking hand on his arm and with a serious expression on his face started to speak.

"My child, we haven't much time. I should have sent for you years ago."

"What's the matter Father?" Her voice was soothing; the poor old man looked so flustered.

"Nothing is wrong now. Now your here and you can fix everything. It has to be you. It's been so long since the Great One spoke, I can't remember some of the words. But I'm positive..." Father Meary let his ranting words trail off.

"I'm sorry. I've just been so worried and.. .never mind. My child, you have been Chosen. You will enter the caves beneath this church and petition the Great One for the right of Kaleran."

"Petition the who to be the what?" She asked, incredulous. Apparently the Father had ceased to speak Standard English.

"The Great One needs a companion, or it will die like the rest of us when the defoliant bomb is detonated." Father Meary spoke earnestly.

"What is the 'Great One'?" She knew she didn't want to hear this answer.

"There." Father Meary pointed to the shield on the wall.

The stranger walked to the shield and stared at the roughly drawn silver dragon for a few minutes. She could hear Gareth and Father Meary engaged in a quiet argument. They still had their heads together when she turned around quickly and pined them both with a furious stare. They looked up with guilty expressions on their faces.

"Let me get this straight. You (pointing a finger at Father Meary, who jumped at the anger in her voice) want me to go into a cave and talk some mythical beast into letting me be it's friend so it doesn't get blown away like the rest of us! First of all, what the **hell **would a dragon be doing living under a church in the middle of New York. Second, why would I want to spend my last moments on earth walking around a dark cave that is probably just filled with spiders and other creepy bugs (shudder). And third, if this thing actually exists, what is to prevent it from making its last meal out of me?" Her anger slowly wound down, and as she tried to return her breathing to normal, Gareth began to speak. Now, when she's angry it's not a good idea to talk to her. She took a deep breath and prepared to launch into another tirade when something Gareth was saying made her pause.

'.. .will protect you from the blast."

"Hold it a minute, rewind. What did you just say."?

"I said that if you are truly the Kaleran, the Chosen One, the Great One will protect you from the blast," Gareth was very calm.

The stranger looked into his deep brown eyes and said in wonder, "You really believe that there is a dragon under this church."

He nodded and gazed at the scorched shield.

"I didn't believe the Father, so one day I took the shield and entered the caves. I had just rounded the first bend, and I guess the Great One heard me, for there it was. It was huge, and silver.. .glowing. The most beautiful, terrible thing I have ever seen. It looked at me with blue... red... eyes, opened its mouth and shot flame at me. I got the shield up just in time." He looked at Father Meary and smiled ruefully as he bent down and rolled up one pant leg. "But I forgot about my legs."

Gareth' legs were a mass of white scar tissue that should have been smooth black skin.

"How much..." the stranger's voice trailed away….

"Both legs from the thigh down. Father was waiting for me when I crawled back into this room. That was two months ago."

Her eyebrows shot up as she turned, surprised, to face the old priest.

"My ancestors have been entrusted with the care of the Great One since it first came to us, over five hundred years ago. They learned early on how to make a salve to heal the effects of dragon fire in a short amount of time. The Great One itself gave us the initial formula after it accidentally burned one of its caretakers." Father Meary spoke gently, a look of fond remembrance on his face.

This was way too much information. The stranger breathed deeply, holding out her hands to forestall any more conversation.

"Just give me a minute to think," She said, her gaze never leaving the floor.

"O.K.," She looked up. Both Gareth and Father Meary are looking at her with anticipation. She chose her words carefully and spoke slowly.

"I'll take your word for it that the...Dragon...really exists," She spoke to Gareth. "And I'll take what Gareth said about the dragon protecting me from the blast as truth as far as you both know, but Father, why me? Surely there is someone more.. . appropriate than me."

"I know what you are asking my child. This is not a religious matter. It has nothing to do with your beliefs, or my beliefs. I am the first and only priest in my family. The Great One was not sent by (he paused and looked at her) my God, although I count it as one of my blessings. I don't know why it chose you. All it told me was that it felt your presence years ago, and that it felt that if you continued to follow that path that you would become it's Kaleran." Father Meary paused and looked into the stranger's eyes.

"Father, I know what I am. I know how you see me how others see me. I was a horrible child. I became an impossible teen-ager and I have become a dangerous adult." She reacted to his gaze in anger. People always tried mincing their words around her, and she wouldn't have it.

"You are always so defensive. You are not as dangerous as you would have people believe." He saw the look she gave him and decided not to argue. "Fine, believe what you will, but you were always on your best behavior here." His eyes danced with humor and she felt a bit sheepish about her overreaction.

"Child, we haven't much time. I will explain everything to you when you return. Perhaps the Great One itself will tell you of it's past and how it came to be here." He gestured to the stone walls of the church. "But you must make your decision now. Will you try to save us?" He looked beseechingly.

The stranger wanted to agree at once, if only he would stop looking at her that way. Father Meary had always been a man of action; if it needed to be done, he could and would do it. The idea that he finally came across a problem that he could not solve himself was frightening.

"How will you be saved, Father?" She asked the question without thinking.

"When the Great One has its Kaleran it will allow the people in this church to enter the caves. It assured me that the caves would withstand the force of the blast." The old priest spoke slowly.

"But the caves must be saturated with spoor! If your not infected now, surely..."

"The spoor cannot survive near the Great One. I don't know why, and the Great One refuses to comment. The caves are clean. Gareth was a carrier before he entered the caves, when he came out he was detoxified. The Great One assures me that that will be the case with all of us." Father Meary was growing more impatient. It was obvious that he had complete faith in his "Great One" and that he hoped that just this once the stranger would choose to trust his judgment. She looked at the flustered, elderly priest; dressed in a long, wrinkled black robe, his white hair rumpled; lines of worry and hope etched on his ancient face. She looked at Gareth. He stood by the old man, supporting his frail weight with one strong arm. The only brightness in his dark face were his eyes, which shone with sympathy.., and pity. He understood her inner battle; her desire to do nothing that people want her to do. She came to a decision.

"Ah, hell Father," She said, a huge smile on her face as she walked over to Father Meary and thumped him, gently, on the back, **"**Ican think of worse ways to die."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Her words echoed in her ears with each squishy step. The tunnel was all she expected and more. The rough-hewn walls dripped with moisture.. . and insects. She had quit looking down at her feet quite some time ago, as she was no longer sure if it was water she was wading through or something more foul. The air smelled strange. A warm breeze blew about her head, thankfully keeping her from smelling any odors that might have been emanating from the flowing path. She really didn't know why she continued to slog ahead. She guessed it was because she felt it was better to die doing something instead of just lying on the ground in the fetal position (given her surroundings, that was not an option). Besides, she could hear the Father and the rest of the "postulants" following close behind. Which was the main reason she continued to carry the damn shield.

Father Meary insisted she take it, although he was quiet cryptic as to the reason why. He mumbled about it being the key to something, but the stranger did not understand the word the old priest said. When she would have asked more questions, the old man again stated the need to hurry, and with surprising strength shoved the shield into her arms and her through a secret passage all in one move.

She paused for a moment. The sounds behind her were beginning to fade. The Father had told her that he, Gareth, and the others would take shelter in a side passage, to avoid any "accidents" as he called them. Apparently, Gareth had not been the only person to enter the caverns in disbelief; he was just the only one intelligent enough to take the shield.

"Well, might as well keep going. Not like there's anything to go back to," she mumbled to herself, kicking lightly at the liquid flowing around her feet. For a brief moment, she pictured her family, but quickly pushed the thought away. Life was hard enough right now without reliving that mess.

She noticed then that the floor of the tunnel was now completely dry. Her feet scuffed lightly over the dust-covered ground. The breeze playing around her head had also intensified; she could detect a pattern to it: drawing her bangs lightly off her forehead for a count of seven, a pause for a count of three, and then plastering them back down for a count of five. Must have been some kind of air movement system to keep the tunnel air from getting stale. She could think of a lot of things that could be stored down here; the dry, low humidity air would keep wood and textiles beautifully preserved. She was knocked out of her musings by a sudden blast of air that blew her hair violently out behind her. She counted the pause, out loud to ease her nervousness.

"One, two, three…four…five……"

She let her voice trail off as she heard the sound of rocks and small stones being dislodged by…something.

"Great. It's a trap; I know it's a trap. This is valuable storage space, there must be someone down here and now I'm going to get my ass kicked for trying to humor an old man," the stranger ranted to herself, barely making a sound as she vainly searched the stone floor for anything that could constitute a weapon. The shield just was not going to cut it. Sure, she could hide under it, but how long could you do that for? Unfortunately, the damn floor looked positively clean. Not so much as a spec of dust was in this part of the cavern. "Shit!"

Her footsteps faltered as the air began to move again, this time at a much faster (and somehow warmer) pace. The tunnel walls had become noticeably rougher looking, and the isle itself was getting much wider. Where she had been barely able to walk with the shield held out in front of her at the beginning of this journey, the passage would now be wide enough to accommodate three or four of her walking side by side. She also noted that the ceiling, while never so low as to cause her to stoop her tall frame over, now vaulted a good ten feet above her head, and continued to rise. The movement of the air mirrored her thoughts. Drawing her forward, wanting to satisfy her curiosity, and then pushing her away, making her want to drop this damn heavy shield and run. The air was much warmer here, but still very dry. It had a pleasant smell; a mixture of old sandalwood, but with an underlying scent that could only be described as the smell of spring.

And then she sensed it. There was a very wide, open space directly ahead of her, just around a crook in the tunnel. She could see everything clearly, as a dim light was emanating from something just around that corner. She stopped walking, and just stood there for a moment. The air rushed around her, and she counted the pattern: in for four, out for two, in…four, out…two. She shook herself, realizing that her breathing had unconsciously been mimicking the movement of the air around her. The air suddenly pulled against her body, drawing the stranger toward whatever was around the bend. Just as quickly as it started, it ended. There was no out-pouring of air. Before she could change her mind, the stranger hefted the shield, drew in a sharp breath, held it, ran up to the bend in the tunnel and jumped out into the space beyond, a small part of her hoping it was the underground equivalent to the Grand Canyon and she would die before she was aware of anything.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It was the underground equivalent of the Grand Canyon. Unfortunately, it was similar to the base of that natural wonder, not the top. The beast was crouched at the opposite end of the cavern, staring at her. It was a gangly looking thing at first sight: long limbs, a rounded head crowned with a growth of shoulder length, flame colored hair that glowed even in the low light. Upon closer inspection, she supposed it could be called somewhat attractive. It had well-developed forearms, and it's legs, encased in some kind of cloth, looked solid enough. It just stood there, it's mouth slightly open, it's head moving, as it looked her over. She continued her perusal, a slight frown on her face. It was then that the creature looked at her directly for the first time, and she was captured by it's eyes. They were the truest blue she had ever seen. The only thing in nature to which she could equate that shade of blue was during the height of the summer storms. It was the intense cerulean color of the most powerful lightening as it arched to the ground. She was drawn to the beast, loosing herself in it's eyes. She felt herself moving forward, and could not have stopped even if she wanted to. She had to get closer to those eyes…those eyes…those eyes…that soul…


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The stranger could barely process what she was seeing.

"Holy shit, it's real," was all that ran through her brain.

She continued to gape at the…dragon. It was large, the body at least ten feet long, possibly double that counting the tail. Crouched as it was, with it's tail wrapped around it's front claws, it was hard to measure exactly how big it would be fully standing, but she guessed that standing on all fours it would probably be about twelve to fifteen feet tall. The tip of it's tail was flipping back and forth in agitation. She felt her gaze move, unbidden, up the dragon's tail, noting that it was relatively smooth and rounded, with a slight crest along the top. The tail thickened as it neared the animal's body. It's front and hind legs appeared very muscular and well defined, tapering down to elegant but strong-looking digits, each tipped with a pointed, black claw. Her eyes continued absorb the vision before her. The dragon's skin was a bright silver color, the only darkness being the creature's claws and the black ridge running from the tip of the tail and getting slightly larger as it ran up it's back. The slight shifting of muscles under the beast's skin mesmerized the stranger. It was like seeing water…alive. The creature's wings were tucked firmly against it's sides, and the stranger could see that black outlined their very edges. She continued her visual tour up the dragon's long, sensuous neck, to it's delicate head. The black ridge marking continued here, highlighting the animal's long, rear-pointing ears and almond-shaped eyes.

"Oh Goddess, those eyes," the stranger breathed, having just made eye contact with the dragon.

The dragon's eyes changed color. At first they were blue, a dull bluish-grey, the color of wet slate. Then it was as if a spark was lit deep inside the cat-like pupils. The creature's eyes swirled with every color imaginable; it happened so fast that the stranger could barely even register the shades that appeared before they were gone. Then they suddenly turned black. Slowly, starting from the pupils and spreading outward, the darkness was infused with pale green, which intensified until the dragon's eyes were a blinding emerald brilliance; the color of the ocean before a storm, all darkness and light at the same time.

The dragon uncoiled itself and started to walk toward the stranger. She could do nothing but stare dumbly into those amazing eyes. Dimly, a part of her registered some bit of her brain screaming softly in horror as something so large and, well, basically terrifying, moved gracefully closer. She couldn't move. She just had to see those eyes…those eyes…those eyes…that soul…


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The dragon was now very close. This being enthralled her. It was not like this when she was forced to bond with Mreelith. She remembered staring into his muddy brown eyes and feeling absolutely nothing. She would have rejected him completely if she had had her choice. What a disaster that turned out to be. The dragon bared her teeth in anger, her eyes taking on a hint of red. Well, she had her choice now. True, it was almost too late, but this…woman…will just have to do. She shook her head slightly, regaining some of her senses. Time to find out if she would be able to have any control over this one. She cocked her head to one side, looked at the being standing at her feet, and projected.

The stranger thought she was going to die. The dragon was right in front of her when it bared it's shining, dark silver teeth. She could have sworn it's eyes turned a bit red, too. Then the worst pain she had ever imagined tore through her skull. She flung the shield down and grabbed her head as tears poured out of her eyes. Her name was ripped from her mind, whispers of it echoing for heartbeats afterwards.

"Rhinn McKittrick…Rhinn, Rhinn, Rhinn, Rhinn, Rhinn, Rhinn"

As the pain started to ease, Rhinn stood up a bit. She was just about to remove her hands when the pain returned, far worse this time as entire parts of her life seemed to be removed from her mind, read, and then returned. The echoes increased. Rhinn was crying freely now, curled on the cavern floor, arms wrapped around her head. He mother's name…her father's…grandparents'...names of other relatives she didn't consciously remember…her sibling's names…ages…

The pain increased; she was actually reliving some of her worst moments: the fights in school…the knife fight on the street…that one horrid night in jail…he father's death…her mother's betrayal…her lover's denial. It was like watching life in slow motion. Knowing what was going to happen, knowing what went wrong, willing it to change but unable to affect anything. Rhinn couldn't take any more. With all the strength she had left she concentrated on one word

"STOP!"

The word echoed in the cavern as if she had spoken it out loud. The pain in her head was gone instantly, although a few whispers could still be heard in the back of her mind. Once she could think clearly again, she slowly picked herself up off the ground and looked accusingly at the dragon.

"What are you," Rhinn breathed, not expecting an answer.

Now it was the dragon writhing on the ground in pain as Rhinn got the answer to her innocent question. Rhinn could only equate the experience to watching a badly edited movie while hopped up on acid. There were swirls of color and sounds that she didn't understand: odd geometric shapes and music that made no sense… bits of scenery and architecture that she had never seen before…a sense of overwhelming loss and sadness…hatred for a dull yellow dragon with dark eyes…and a name

"Lyra," Rhinn breathed. "You're name is Lyra."

The dragon's pain seemed to end; she sat up slowly, curling herself into the same position she had been in when Rhinn entered the cave.

"And you are Rhinn," Lyra projected carefully, the question clear. She heard the raw pain in the human's low, gravelly voice and realized that Rhinn hurt just as much as she had. That was rare; usually only one of a bonding had the mind pain.

"Yes," Rhinn spoke aloud just to hear her own voice. It was odd having another's thoughts in your head. Even when it, no she, Lyra, was not speaking, Rhinn could still feel a small presence in the back of her mind; a sort of greenish silver speck that she knew must be some part of the dragon.

Lyra noticed that Rhinn seemed to have processed the whole experience rather well. She did not seem upset with Lyra for causing her such pain, nor did she seem to have any lingering after-effects. Lyra's bonding with Mreelith had left her ill for a week, while he suffered nothing at all. Lyra remembered the few times she had tried to speak with her self-appointed "caretakers" over the years…centuries? The men always howled in pain and got half of the information she told them wrong. This did not seem to have happened with Rhinn. Perhaps with humans you must be bonded in order to mindspeak correctly? How strange…

"What happened to me," Rhinn asked, breaking the dragon out of her reverie.

"We are mind-bonded," Lyra projected with a slight air of irritation. It should have been obvious; couldn't the female sense Lyra in her mind even now? Lyra could definitely feel Rhinn; a spot of pure blue in the dark expanse of her brain, slowly pushing out the dot of yellow that still remained.

"Oookay…I've read a lot of science fiction, so I'm gonna take a guess that that would explain why I can feel a little green blob in my head with your name all over it. But it doesn't explain why I felt like my head was going to explode and why I was treated to a special viewing of the worst parts of my life." Rhinn's voice dropped even lower, her anger evident. To her, this beast looked way too smug.

Lyra was confused, and a bit intimidated, by the creature's sudden anger. She took a slight step back, trying to distance herself from Rhinn's bristling form.

Rhinn would have laughed out loud had she been in a better mood. The sight of the dragon backing away from her was comical. She relaxed a bit, reaching up to rub the back of her very stiff neck. That was when her fingers brushed against the necklace and stopped. She hadn't been wearing a necklace when she left her apartment. She put her fingers under the chain and tried to hold it away from her neck to see what it looked like, but it was too tight. Failing that, she let the tips of her fingers trail over it.

"Uh-oh," Lyra thought, as she stopped her retreat. The human had discovered the collar and was touching it very carefully. How to explain this…

"WHAT THE HELL IS ON MY NECK," Rhinn was not amused any more.

"Umm, well…," the dragon let her projection fade. Rhinn was looking even more hostile now than before. Lyra flared out her wings and arched her neck in response. Now it was the human's turn to take a step back.

"It's nothing, really. It signifies that you are a Kaleran, a truebond," Lyra projected in a soothing tone.

"Great, okay, so now I have some new jewlry," Rhinn stated sarcastically, "but I notice that you are not wearing one."

In response, Lyra waved one clawed hand in front of her, leaving behind a rectangular shaped, blue swirling mass about six feet tall. The blue colors calmed down and solidified into a silvery mirror. Rhinn walked slowly towards it, heedless of her close proximity to the dragon.

The image in the mirror held her, transfixed. There she was, looking like she normally did, with one exception. Draped around her neck was the most beautiful choker she had ever seen. It hugged her neck so tightly that she could barely slip a finger under it, but the metal felt almost soft, not constricting in any way. It was rounded over, about two inches thick, and made of what must have been millions of tiny individual links all woven together to give the overall appearance of scales. It was a dragon that circled her neck. At the hollow of Rhinn's throat, the animal was holding it's tail in it's forelegs with it's head resting on the crossed hands. A bright emerald shone out of the one exposed eye. The rest of the piece was a brilliant silver color that shone against Rhinn's tanned skin.

"It…It's nice," Rhinn stuttered. She swallowed hard and continued. "But I still don't understand why I'm wearing it and why you don't have one." She looked expectantly at the dragon, craning her head to make eye contact.

Lyra looked down at the human, slightly uncomfortable with the decreased distance.

"It shows that you belong to me and are not available for any other bonding. It is a common practice," she projected.

"This piece was created for me by Arthiel, one of our finest craftsmen." Lyra crested her neck, proud of the origin of her bonding gift. "I am not wearing one because you have none to give. Now, we have wasted enough time. You humans are always so full of questions. It is time to leave."

Lyra waved her hand again, causing the shield that was on the cavern floor to float across the air towards Rhinn, who caught it reflexively.

"But where…" Rhinn had no time to finish her sentence as she felt herself grasped in two clawed hands, pulled close to the body of the dragon, and then enveloped in a flash of yellow light.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Lyra opened her eyes to the comforting green fields of the land surrounding her family's home. She breathed deeply, enjoying the crisp air which held no scent of dirt or car exhaust. She dropped her burden and took a few steps outside of the cave she had transported into. Rising onto her rear legs she stretched her wings to their full extension, arching her neck towards the sky as she let out a roar of joy. Dropping back down to all fours, she swung around to face Rhinn. The human was looking at her with trepidation. It was a bit intimidating seeming a creature as large as Lyra do a dragon version of the happy dance.

"I'm home," Lyra projected quietly, allowing the human to feel her happiness (and her slight embarrassment) through their connection.

Rhinn had been a bit frightened when the dragon reared up, but the projection Lyra sent calmed her immediately. She was still angry about being called a possession, and had been prepared to argue with the beast some more on that subject when the creature had grabbed her and brought her…here. Rhinn peered around her from the safety of the cave. It was definitely not New York. They were on the edge of a rolling green field. She could see what might be a large town at the base of a mountain in the distance, a road to the left leading towards it. The dragon had called this home…

"Where, exactly, are we," Rhinn spoke aloud.

"New York," Lyra projected with a touch of humor.

Rhinn stared at the dragon, shook herself slightly, and stepped out of the cave. She walked directly up to Lyra, looked her in the eye, and repeated her question.

Lyra looked down on the small human with her luminous green eyes, and Rhinn could have sworn that the dragon's mouth curled into a wry smile.

"This **is **New York; we are simply on a type of alternate plane. Your home exists as an alternate plane…" Lyra let her projection trail off. The human had a look of utter confusion on her face. Lyra tried to simplify her explanation.

"Your world is like that unknown movement, caught in the corner of your eye. You think you see something, but when you turn to get a full look, you see nothing. If you continue to observe out of the corner of your eye, you can see fully. We simply stepped through that small space."

Rhinn was very confused, but she thought she a pretty good idea of what the dragon was saying. Then, as Lyra's words were spoken into her brain, Rhinn could actually see how it was accomplished, and suddenly, she understood why Lyra had to bond with her in order to get back home.

"You needed me to be a, a type of bridge, didn't you? When you looked out of the corner of your eye, you would have seen New York, but you were already there, so you needed my eyes to see this place, right?" Rhinn spoke haltingly, trying to put into words the pictured information she was being sent from the dragon's brain.

Lyra was taken aback; there was no way this creature should have been able to understand the more complicated abstract projections that she had unconsciously sent with her words. She would have to be more careful, lest she loose dominance. Lyra shuddered at the thought of being forced to relinquish control again. She answered with a nod of her refined head.

Rhinn breathed a sigh of relief. She was starting to get the hang of this mindbond stuff! Her mind was so full of questions she didn't know where to start. She looked down at the ground in pensive silence, thinking that there were so many things to learn, to study, and she wanted all the answers. She looked up at the dragon and found herself lost yet again in the green mists swirling in almond-shaped eyes.

Lyra felt Rhinn's questions hammering at her brain. She couldn't give the human all the answers, not yet! It would increase Rhinn's status in the bond too much, she would begin to take control and Lyra would be a slave again. The dragon was starting to panic; she clenched her front claws, feeling the ghosts of twin bracelets encircling her wrists. Lyra looked down at her hands and found herself trapped by Rhinn's cobalt gaze. Rhinn's eyes radiated her curiosity and excitement; no fear showed in them. It was oddly calming. While the curiosity was a bit disquieting, Lyra could find no glint of calculation in the oceanic depths of the orbs gazing at her with total trust. Lyra relaxed her fists and took a deep breath. This was so different. She kept telling herself that she was the one in control, the one with all the knowledge and the power. The human's eyes were just so interesting to watch…

The dragon lowered her head towards the human, maintaining eye contact. The urge to give Rhinn all the answers she wanted was strong, but Lyra kept herself in check, content to just bask in the joy of this painless bond.

"Later," she projected. "Right now I need to go home."

She accompanied her words with a simple picture of the mountain in the distance. She was quite amused when the little human picked up the shield and started to head towards the road that lead to the town.

"It would be several days journey on foot, Kaleran," Lyra projected with a grin, "and I am in a bit of a hurry to see my kin. It would be much faster to fly."

Lyra flattened herself to the ground, holding out her left arm and sending a picture projection that showed the human stepping onto the dragon's arm and allowing herself to be boosted to a seated position in front of Lyra's wings. Rhinn decided that if the dragon had wanted her dead, she would be dead already, so she lost no time in mounting the great beast. She paused only once when she first touched Lyra: the scales under her hands were surprisingly soft and warm. Rhinn was happy to discover that the joints and bones of Lyra's wings and front legs formed a kind of natural saddle, holding her securely in place. The shield was a bit unwieldy, however, and Rhinn was a little worried that it would cause her to overbalance.

She needn't have worried. Lyra suddenly lept into the air, snapping out her wings with a loud crack. The air pressure pushed Rhinn securely into the dragon's back as they gained altitude quickly. Rhinn looked down at the ground falling far below and had a brief moment of panic. Never having been in an airplane, she was unprepared for the sense of vertigo that sometimes accompanies a person's departure from solid footing. Transfering her gaze to the back of Lyra's head seemed to steady her perceptions a bit. Wanting to distract herself from the height, Rhinn began asking questions.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"So we're going to your home, huh. What's it like," Rhinn asked with seeming nonchalance? She desperately wanted to know what was going on, but some instinct was telling her that if she pushed the dragon too far Lyra would probably just drop her, literally.

Lyra thought for a moment, trying to decide if there was any harm in telling the human about her home. If she edited a few things…

"Home is a large complex in the mountain you see ahead of us," she projected, waving her head in that direction. "It has several levels, most built into the mountain itself; very hard to describe without seeing it firsthand." This last said a bit loftily.

Rhinn started to get a picture in her mind as Lyra continued to speak.

"At the base of the mountain is a castle made of white stone. In the summer, when the sun is at it's highest, it shines so bright that you dare not look directly at the walls for fear of blindness. In the winter, the snow makes it hard to see where the earth ends and the stone begins……"

Rhinn closed her eyes and focused, not on the voice of the dragon in her head, but on the pictures that seemed to be wrapped around the words. She saw the castle with its glowing walls. Even at night, the smallest bit of moonlight was enough to reflect off the stone, forming a bright aura around the large structure. It looked just like the castles she had seen in books: tall spires rising at odd intervals, thick outer walls with just one entrance, a moat filled with clear water. Flying from the walkways above the walls was a standard. When the wind unfurled the flag, Rhinn could see it had a dark gold field just like the shield she still clutched. However, the dragon in the center of the flag was bright red, and instead of being curled it was rearing up in a rampant position, three feet extended out, being supported by only one leg. Rhinn felt an emotion that was not her own. With a start she realized that Lyra felt great love for someone in the castle, not just affection for the place itself. For a moment, she was a bit jealous, but she shook it off. She had known Lyra for barely two hours and had no right to feel possessive.

"Who's the red dragon," Rhinn heard herself asking? Tact was never her strong point.

Lyra faltered, jostling Rhinn and almost causing her to drop the shield. She knew she had been projecting images, but she hoped that she had not inadvertently sent any emotions. Convincing herself that she had not let anything slip and that Rhinn was just curious about her home she answered.

"That is the standard of King Dagnar." Lyra was very careful to keep her projection neutral, and with no accompanying picture. Still, Rhinn got a vague sense of something huge and red, much larger than Lyra.

Sensing another question she didn't really want to answer, Lyra sent a projection before Rhinn could even formulate words.

"We'll stop soon. Unfortunately we will have to camp for the night, as the only town is near the castle." Lyra projected the word "camp" as though she had just stepped on something cold, wet, and slimy.

Rhinn, who had gone on a few camping trips with her father and had never really learned to enjoy the experience, could sympathize. She peered down at the ground, and saw that they were flying over a large forest. She looked forward and saw that, although they had been flying for at least a few hours, the mountain didn't look any closer. Deciding to let the dragon sidetrack her line of questioning (for now), Rhinn asked how long it would take to get to the castle. The reply startled her.

"At least a 4 days. Home is farther than it looks, and I haven't flown in a very long time. Even now I'm tiring."

Rhinn noticed that Lyra's wing beats had gotten steadily slower and they were losing altitude. Spotting a break in the trees below them, she felt the dragon's muscles shift a second before Lyra tucked her wings close to her body and dropped sharply towards the ground. At the last moment (at least Rhinn thought it was the last moment, she had closed her eyes at the sight of the ground rushing up at them), Lyra unfurled her wings and with a great snapping sound flapped once to break the fall, kicking up a huge cloud of dirt and dried leaves that were strewn across the clearing. At this point, Rhinn fell off, the shield hitting her solidly on the head.

Lyra realized her mistake as soon as she swept her wings out to break her fall. She had overcompensated. It had been centuries since she last flew, and she had been much smaller then, and not carrying a passenger. Setting down heavily, she anxiously scanned the ground for her Kaleran. It took several minutes for the dust to clear, and even then it was hard for her to see where Rhinn had fallen. Finally, a low moan to her left made her swivel around, to see that what she had taken to be a particularly dirty log was really her unconscious companion. Walking quickly to her side, Lyra worked her sharp claws carefully under Rhinn and turned her gently over.

Lyra was fascinated. She had been most attracted to the human's eyes when they bonded, and had not paid a lot of attention to her physical features. But now, with the hypnotic eyes closed, the dragon took the time to study her chosen one. She really was quite beautiful, in a non-dragon sort of way, of course. Her clothing had ripped during her fall; Lyra could now see parts of the human's muscular legs through large holes in her pants. Her shirt had ridden up, so that her well-defined right arm was lying across the bare skin of her hard, flat stomach. The dragon cocked her head as she started intently at Rhinn's face; it was slightly rounded, but the cheekbone she could see was sharp and angular. Her nose, while not being prominent, was not delicate either. It was….strong. That was the only word Lyra could think of to describe it. Rhinn's entire face had a strong, noble look to it. Her hair was a very intense red. Lyra blew a small lick of fire, and decided that the human's hair was the exact color of dragonfire. Half of the human's hair was flung across the right side of her face. Wanting to see the entire face, Lyra tried to hook the end of one of her claws on the hair, but soon realized that to accomplish this she would end up scratching Rhinn. Lyra looked furtively around her, trying to sense if there was anyone in the nearby forest. Not sensing anything larger than a squirrel, she returned her attention to her companion. She felt a burning need to see Rhinn's entire face. She sent a projection to the human, but all she felt was blackness. She glanced around one more time, and then….Changed.

To Be Continued……


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

There was no flash of light; no loud cracking sound. The ground did not shake; nor did a great breeze blow. Simply, one moment there was a dragon, and the next…there was not. In the great beast's place stood a rather small form, which, from a distance, appeared human. However, upon close inspection, the figure was decidedly not human. An observer would be drawn first to the eyes; not unusually large, their slight almond shape not too exaggerated. What one would find most intriguing would be their lack of white; or, rather, their excess of color: a rich, verdant green. The hypnotic orbs were set deeply into a high arching forehead and cheekbones, and above a severely thin nose. The full lips below were tinged a subtle black, and the smooth skin overall seemed to glow faintly silver. Delicate, slightly pointed ears, a small chin, and waist-length straight black hair lent themselves to the otherworldly beauty of the face. A face that looked decidedly worried.

Lyra knelt beside Rhinn and gently brushed the hair away from her face with one slender hand, being careful not to scratch her with the short, black nails. She could now see that Rhinn had a huge bruise extending from her hairline almost to her chin on the right side of her face. Even more concerned, Lyra carefully probed Rhinn's head, finding a very large lump just above her right ear, which was slowly leaking blood. The human-formed dragon closed her eyes and searched her mind for the blue that was her Kaleran. The bright, electric color that had existed in a corner of her mind several hours ago now felt very small and pale; diffused and fading.

With her eyes still closed, Lyra projected herself along this weak path, entering Rhinn's mind and dragging the watery color with her. She searched for the brilliant green she knew would be there, and linked the two colors together. The human/dragon felt the drain immediately. She staggered to her feet, hands flying to her head, concentrating on keeping the colors meshed. Only when she felt she was on the verge of passing out did Lyra allow the colors to separate, snapping herself back into her own mind with enough force to knock her to the ground. She opened her eyes slowly, shook her head slightly, and looked over at her fallen Chosen. Crawling slowly to her side, Lyra looked at Rhinn's face, noticing at once that the bruise had faded to just a black eye. She reached out a shaky hand and felt for the horrible lump, but it was completely gone. Lyra sat back on her heels and looked to the darkening sky with tired relief, not noticing that Rhinn was beginning to stir.

Rhinn now knew first-hand the meaning of the phrase, "I feel like I've just been run over by a truck," which she muttered softly under her breath as she slowly opened her eyes. As she raised her hand to cradle her aching head, she glanced up, and her eyes locked on the figure kneeling next to her. What she saw stunned her far more than her fall. The woman was so beautiful…and very naked! Rhinn stared shamelessly at the stranger's full breasts for what seemed like hours, until she noticed the faint white scars that traced across the silvery flesh. She searched the woman's lean body for more marks; and quickly found them. There were four parallel slash marks on her soft stomach; on each upper thigh, five puncture scars- four together, and one opposing; and a thick band of scar tissue encircled each wrist.

Raising her hand to her mouth, she gasped loudly, "Oh, Shit…"

In that instant, Lyra looked at Rhinn, and in a moment of panic, flung herself violently away. As she moved, Lyra flung her arms out, flinging dust into Rhinn's eyes and accidentally punching her in the face. As Rhinn was knocked out for the second time that day, Lyra snapped back into her dragon form, almost stepping on her Kaleran in her haste.

She realized the absurdity of her situation as she sat, waiting for the dust to settle; again. Had she been human, Lyra would have shaken her head in disgust. Instead, she was mentally berating herself for having changed in the first place. Of all the stupid things do! She huffed out a breath and went to check on Rhinn. The human was just starting to sit up, holding both hands to her head and moaning pitifully. Lyra carefully sat within touching distance, but was too timid to actually reach out again. Rhinn brushed her hair out of her face and looked up…and up, flinching slightly at the closeness of the very large dragon. Squinting slightly, Rhinn looked at the dragon's face and let out a bark of laughter. Lyra looked positively stricken.

"Don't look so worried, I think I'll live." Rhinn looked down and shook her head slightly, raising her hand to her right cheek.

Lyra drew herself up straight and stared down her nose at the human.

"Of course you'll live; although you might want to try holding on next time." Lyra stood up and walked haughtily to the other side of the clearing, where she laid down, curled herself into a tight ball, and closed her eyes.

Rhinn glanced up as the dragon moved away, but closed her eyes in pain as she probed what she figured was a fairly impressive bruise on the right side of her face. She felt a bit of wetness as she probed her head, and when she looked at her hand she saw blood. She tried and failed to find a source. Shrugging slightly, Rhinn left off her head exploration and began to take stock of the rest of her body. She bent her legs, stretched out her back and neck, and discovered, except for a few aches most likely caused by more bruises, that she was relatively unharmed. Her clothing, on the other hand, was going to need to be replaced. She looked down at the huge holes in her designer jeans, and then at her dirty, but undamaged, generic t-shirt and snorted at the irony.

Lyra watched through slit eyelids as her companion pushed herself slowly to her feet, groaning as she stretched. She was still feeling anxious and, if she was willing to admit it, guilty. Hopefully, Rhinn would either not remember or not believe what she had seen. She raised her head in alarm as Rhinn started to walk away from the clearing.

"Where are you going," she projected, barely keeping the panic out of her voice?

Rhinn spoke without stopping, her voice showing her pain, and a bit of sarcasm.

"I saw a stream right before I "fell off". I need to get cleaned up."

Lyra knew there was nothing dangerous nearby; and yet she was still uneasy about letting Rhinn out of her sight. She half stood, intending to "change" again and follow her Kaleran, when she caught herself. She flopped back down to the ground, sprawling inelegantly. What was wrong with her? She was dominant; she had the control; she had all the power. If she was caught in another moment of weakness that dominance level might shift, and she was not willing to relinquish her upper hand. Filled with new resolve, she stood up again, this time turning away from the direction Rhinn had gone. She searched the edge of the clearing, using her front claws to carry large pieces of wood to it's center. When she had amassed a sizable pile, she drew in a deep breath and let out a blast of fire, at the last moment jerking her head up so that she missed the pile of wood. What was she doing now? What does a dragon need with a campfire? Lyra turned inward, cocking her head at the soft voice she could just make out if she really concentrated. It was emanating from the spot of blue in her mind. Rhinn, apparently, was starting to get cold and was wishing she had a fire. Okay, fine, Lyra could deal with that. She told herself she was just making sure her Kaleran didn't get sick or something. Rhinn wasn't controlling the dragon; just making an unconscious request. Lyra realized that the human had no idea how to shield her thoughts; anything the great beast wanted to know she could just pull from that spot of blue, and Rhinn wouldn't even know. Feeling magnanimous, Lyra lit the fire. Once it was burning well, she gathered more wood and placed it nearby. Remembering the state of the human's clothes, she concentrated on her palms, placing them together and pressing firmly. When she separated her hands, she was holding a pair of coarse brown pants and a soft-looking black shirt. She placed the clothing on the ground for Rhinn to find when she returned. Curling up next to the fire, Lyra had to admit it was a good idea. The heat felt nice as the sun set and the air started to chill. She kept her head turned to the direction Rhinn had gone.


End file.
